


Feminine Intuition

by Daegaer



Category: Fix Bay'nets - George Manville Fenn
Genre: Gen, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer





	Feminine Intuition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Puddingcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puddingcat/gifts).



 

 

"Edmund," said that gentleman's younger sister as she lifted her walking skirt indecorously above her knees in order to more easily leap across a muddy patch of ground, "You aren't going to go away again, are you? India is so dreadfully far away."

"I shan't," said Bracy. "At least I don't think I shall. I wanted to come back to England," he continued, smiling, "To see what a young lady you have become!"

"Don't tell me to be ladylike," sighed Emily, for that was indeed his sister's name, "Mamma tells me that from morning to night, and thinks I should prefer sitting at home to walking in the fresh air!" Her breath steamed white in front of her in that very air she mentioned as she marched along, her boots pressing small footprints into the frost-whitened grass.

"She is perhaps right that you should not display your knees in such a manner," said Bracy, twitching the skirt from her grasp so it fell more decorously about her limbs once more as she walked.

"Oh, it's only _you_ ," she laughed. "You don't count!"

"Well, and there is Gedge too," said Bracy, indicating where Gedge walked a little way off, the basket containing their luncheon slung over his shoulder, his small distance from them giving them some small privacy. "I'm sure Mamma shouldn't like to think you were showing him your legs."

"Oh, he doesn't count either," said Emily airily. "You don't mind if I show off my knees, do you, Gedge?" she called cheerfully.

"Your knees, Miss?" said Gedge, going a scarlet colour that quite recalled his old uniform. "I wasn't - that is, Mr Bracy, sir, I warn't looking at - oh, I mean -" He turned away, the rest of his confused utterance luckily more quiet and discreet, though Bracy was sure it was unfit for a young girl's ears.

"Emily," he said reprovingly, quietly so that only she would hear. "That was not nice, you have embarrassed him. I should hope neither of us was brought up to think it right to make fun of people in Gedge's station."

In answer she but looked at him, then, gathering her skirt in her hands again, ran forward as swift as any boy, a slim, dark-clothed figure against the chill whiteness of winter, heading for a small, perfectly round hill that sat undisturbed in the centre of the field through which they walked. Bracy sighed and walked a little faster.

"I must apologise, Bill," he said, looking to the side where Gedge also strode with a military pace. "She can be thoughtless."

"She's young, sir," said Gedge calmly.

"She's not a small child," muttered Bracy. "She was fourteen last month. Why, when I was her age I had been away at school for seven years!" He blinked at Gedge's glance of mixed pity and horror before continuing, "Emily should perhaps have been sent to a girl's school, at least for a year or two, it would have been good for her. Mother _would_ keep her at home, I don't think it was good for her."

"Are you jealous of your little sister, sir?" asked Gedge slyly, a smile creeping across his plain and honest features.

Bracy stopped dead in astonishment. "No!" he ejaculated. "I love Emily," he went on, "I simply think she does not know how to manage intercourse with people new to her very well. She should not have teased you like that."

Gedge shifted the basket to his other shoulder, saying, "I don't have a sister, but it seems to me that's what they do, sir, tease. They're known for it, I'd say, given what I've heard from friends."

"You're not annoyed?" said Bracy in relief, taking a step closer. "I should like you to like her, Bill -"

"She's watchin' us, Edmund," said Gedge, his voice amused though his face was perfectly neutral and polite. "Don't you kiss me just yet."

"Luckily her bedtime is earlier than ours," said Bracy. He turned about and waved. "We're coming!" he called.

They quickly gained the hill where Emily was, climbing up to the ring of hawthorn trees that crowned it. She sat now on a low stone that rested in the very centre of the circle.

"Let's eat here," she said. "I should like the fairies to come to share luncheon with us."

"Not the druids?" said Bracy with a laugh. Turning to Gedge he said, "Our elder brother was a devotee of the idea that this spot was druidical, while Emily's more feminine imagination favours fairies. I am quite caught in the middle, and must agree with whomever I am with at the time." 

"Yessir," said Gedge warningly, seeing Emily's bright gaze fix first on her brother and then on him. He busied himself laying out the food, shaking his head privately over the provisions Emily had chosen, which were, he thought, more suited to a picnic in the height of summer than to a brisk winter's day.

"I say," said Bracy, looking into a flask, "Is this vichyssoise?" 

"There was some left over from last night," said Emily. "You're an army man, Edmund, you no doubt abhor waste."

"I abhor the thought of cold soup on a day like this," said Bracy glumly.

"We could sacrifice it to the spirits of this place!"

"I'd prefer not to explain to Mamma that I encouraged your heathenism," Bracy laughed. "I'll drink your nasty old soup."

"There's enough for Gedge too," said Emily firmly. "Eat with us, Gedge! Don't be shy, it's all right!"

"Thank you, Miss," Gedge sighed. "Maybe I'll jest have some bread, though."

There was, they found to their delight, at least a flask of tea that retained some of its heat. When Emily looked aside, Bracy slipped out a hip-flask and tipped a little warming whisky into both his tea and Gedge's, which made it all the more pleasant. When they had finished eating and all had been stowed away within the basket once more, Emily watched them light cigarettes, her clouds of breath now outmatched by the white smoke that streamed from their lips and that spiraled up from the tips of the cigarettes. She lay back on the stone, peering up at the pale, winter sky and looking quite like a maiden either expecting the kiss of a fairy lord, or awaiting the druid's cruel sacrificial knife.

"When you were in India, Gedge," she said suddenly. "Is it true you saved my brother's life?"

"He saved my life, Miss, 'n more than once," Gedge said.

"Edmund says you saved his life lots of times. He told us _lots_ of stories about you. That's why you're in his service now, isn't it?"

Gedge looked at Bracy reproachfully, casting his eyes Heavenwards as that gentleman mouthed a silent, sheepish apology.

"Mr Bracy's very kind, Miss," he said. "But I mustn't get too big for my boots - we was all depending on each other out there."

"Edmund says you were wounded saving his life, and then you nursed him back to health."

"We was sojers, Miss," said Gedge, his manner of speech becoming more pronounced as he tried to hide his agitation. "We was fightin' - lots of lads got injured. Mr Bracy got it worse'n me."

"I think it very romantic," said Emily to the sky, firmly. "Each of you was wounded saving the other, and that's how you knew you could trust each other to go across the mountains." She sighed, continuing, "It is very clear to me how much you love each other."

Inhaling too injudiciously upon his cigarette, at this remark, Gedge fell into a fit of coughing, desperately waving Bracy back as he stepped forward to render assistance. "M'fine, thank you, _sir_ ," he wheezed.

Emily sat up. "Oh dear," she said. "Do give him some of your whisky, Edmund dear. Oh, don't look at me like that, I'm not a little girl!" When Bracy had obeyed her, and Gedge had regained his breath, she came to attention before them, as smartly as any of the soldiers of the 404th Regiment. "Thank you for saving my brother's life, Gedge," she said, and held out her hand.

"I was very glad to, Miss," said Gedge, and shook her hand gently, smiling as she grasped his hand as if to show she had the strength of any boy. Then he stood there abashed, as, letting the weight of her advanced years drop from her, Emily flung her arms about him as if she were a child.

"Thank you, William!" she exclaimed, sounding as if she would weep. "You won't let Edmund get killed, _ever_ , will you?"

"I'll do my very best, Miss, I promise," said Gedge gently. He looked at Bracy pleadingly, and was relieved when he carefully pulled his sister back.

"Now then, Silly," said Bracy. "Of course I won't be killed. You're embarrassing Gedge again."

"I don't _mean_ to," said Emily forlornly. "Mamma says I am at an awkward age." She brightened, clapping her hands and saying, "Let's go to the pool next, Edmund! I'm sure you should like Gedge to see the pool! I'll race you there!" So saying she half ran, half slid down the hill and ran like a young deer for the far side of the field. 

"There are fairies there too," said Bracy apologetically. "Or perhaps druids carrying out rites the nature of which caused Paul to be beaten, when he was found describing them in too much detail to his innocent younger brother."

"Let's go and see, then," said Gedge, picking up the basket and following in Emily's trail. "You've got a queer family, Edmund, and that's the truth."

"They're not so bad," said Bracy, striding beside him, looking to where Emily stood upon a fallen tree, shading her eyes as she looked towards them, a bright figure against the dark woods like Diana upon the hunt, caught halfway between wild girl and graceful woman. "Just a little romantic."

"Ain't nothing wrong with a spot of romance," said Gedge wickedly. "As I will helaborate on later. For now, let's see these damp fairies of yours."

Bracy laughed, and cried "Race you!" and ran ahead, Emily flinging herself from the tree and running too, eager not to give up her advantage. Gedge walked faster, but did not run, decorous and proper in his station, and trying not to laugh _too_ much.

 


End file.
